


Apologies

by Gildaurel



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildaurel/pseuds/Gildaurel
Summary: The aftermath of Vanyel offering to give up his lifebonded because it might offend Lord Withen's delicate sensibilities.





	Apologies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [typhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhe/gifts).



Stefen realized, with a slight pang of embarrassment, that he had been humming to himself. He cast a surreptitious glance around the empty room, only to shake his head at his foolish self. _Vanyel must already be affecting me. I never considered blushing before him._ It was all a symptom of his absurd happiness; in so many ways, he felt like he was returning to an innocence he’d never had.

 _I thought I knew the ways of men in this world, and I knew nothing at all. I kissed a thousand meaningless kisses that fell to forgotten dust at one from him._ Their first night, Vanyel had been so hesitant at first, so bashful, his pale skin stained pink with shyness. But once he’d let himself relax… _even objectively, all sentiment aside, he was a lover more intimately gentle than any I’ve ever known._ And tonight, he hoped only for those fine, careful hands to touch him again.

Standing up from his perch in the window seat, he paced about the room, anticipation quickening his footsteps. _Where_ is _he?_ He’d expected Vanyel back a candlemark ago; he knew Vanyel’d wanted to discuss “matters of state” with his father, but that had been right after dinner. _I hope they didn’t get into an argument._ He remembered, still, the first few times Vanyel had opened up enough over the course of their friendship to bring up his family, and though Medren had intimated that Withen didn’t exactly approve of his eldest son, the raw hurt that always thrummed through Vanyel’s voice at his name had surprised Stefen. _I think that was when I started to fall in love with him. When I finally realized he was a troubled man, not the bane of all demons._

Yet Withen’s attitude upon their first meeting had been an awkward warmth that had shocked Stefen. _And Vanyel too, obviously._ After the leech blade incident, he’d been naught but kind, considerate, and utterly welcoming. _Of course, we haven’t shared a bed since then, so he couldn’t complain anyways._

Vanyel had been on forced rest, under strict orders from Starwind, who had warned of severe consequences were he to move, or even jostle, his shoulder too soon. _At least I was used to this faux-platonic, touch-starved relationship in advance._ Tonight, though…tonight they could touch again. _I didn’t know it was possible to want someone this badly._ His body ached, tight as a drum-string, pressured needs testing the limits of his restraint. _The way he moaned when I touched him…_ it had undone him, truly, to watch those masks fall from Vanyel’s already-lovely face. _He looked ten years younger—like he’d rediscovered what living was._

The rhythmic tap struck him from his reverie, and he moved like lightning to open it. _Only Van would knock at his own bedroom door._

His lover’s face stopped him short. Eyes damp and slightly red-rimmed, hair tousled, as if he’d run his hand through it a dozen times over, and body stiff, Vanyel walked unsteadily into the room. He stood for a brief moment over the bed, as if surprised to find it there, then sat heavily, his usual grace glaringly absent.

“Van?” His voice sounded soft and unsure even to himself. _I’ve never seen him cry…and I didn’t know I could care so very much._

“I’m-I’m sorry, Stef, I need a moment.” Vanyel raised a hand to his temple and rubbed it once, twice. The bond between them leaked no trauma, though; rather, Stefen felt a strange sense of unexpected joy and relief. _Tears of happiness?_

Unsure of what to do with himself, Stefen moved toward the old armchair facing the fire, perching lightly on one overstuffed arm. _I suppose I should wait for him to speak?_

“Just…just, it’s so much. It’s so much,” and Vanyel seemed to only be murmuring to himself, now. He looked up, those strange, ethereal silver eyes wide and wondering. “I never thought he would…”

“Agree to come to Haven?” Vanyel’s trailing sentences left him feeling he must say something, anything, to know, to move forward. _I’m dying to touch him._

“That? Oh, yes. Readily.” A long, slow breath. “Stefen, he told me he’s not—ashamed—of me. Of me and you. That I can be—myself.” Another breath, his shoulders trembling slightly.

 _Do I?_ Stefen met him at the bed, lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Van, that’s wonderful.” _I’ve been more eloquent._

“Isn’t it?” His face turned, close, warm, and welcoming, and Stefen could not help but brush those lips with his own. Vanyel’s mouth opened, soft, seeking only measured comfort, and the night seemed to halt in its tracks, time slowing to allow an endless kiss.

Pausing, smiling slightly, Vanyel cupped his hands around Stefen’s face. “To think I offered to give this up…”

“What?” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, and his entire body drew back sharply. “You offered to…what?”

Vanyel’s brow creased, and a pang of hurt confusion flitted between them. “I had to, Stefen. I had to convince him to come to Haven. I couldn’t bear it if—if either of them died, here, unprotected, for me—“

“But _what_ did you offer to give up?” He crossed his arms, shifting further away. _I already know the answer._

“I didn’t know if they would be embarrassed—embarrassed to see me, with you—“

“So you offered to… not be with me?” This time, he succeeded in a careful blankness, at least on the outside. _Surely futile. Van’s an Empath._

Vanyel stood, his arms curling about himself. “Stef…it wasn’t like that. I don’t not want to be with you, you know that.”

“I do?” _Oh dear gods, I’ve never dared speak out to him—what if he leaves me—what if I lose him after all this—_ but he was too angry, this time. “How would I possibly know that?” _You never did anything but turn me coldly and firmly from your bedside for months._

“We’re lifebonded.” The statement held little intonation, almost as if Vanyel was trying to state it as an objective fact, to feel nothing about it. “Of course I want to be with you—“

“Why does some part of me feel like actually, maybe, you don’t?” Leaving the bed, Stefen moved toward the window, his back turned. “That maybe you feel like all this is just one more thing you have to deal with?”

Sharp intake of breath behind him. “No, no, _ashke_ , no. You’re not a burden…you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had—you’ve given me so many reasons to live again—“

“But if your father thinks we’re a bit embarrassing, you’ll send me packing back to Bardic? Without so much as a by-your-leave?” Stefen tried to find a polite way of phrasing the next words. “Vanyel… do you _agree_ with him?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was slow, pointed.

“Do _you_ think it’s shameful?” Stefen turned and met his eyes with hard ones. “Do you think it’s an aberration, some sort of weakness you wish you didn’t have?”

“Stef…” Vanyel’s face fell, and he sat down once more. “Stef, no. I don’t know. I hope not.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve never been good at… accepting myself. Any of myself. I could wish I was more like you—“

“And yet, half of the realm wishes they could be you, the grand hero, the man who would sacrifice his life simply to save them, out of sheer goodness. But you worry you can’t grant yourself one sliver of happiness because your father might—just might—be slightly ashamed—“ Vanyel’s pained, too-pained expression was muddling his thoughts. “Van, any man in Valdemar should be desperately proud to have you as their son. I’m glad Withen finally came around, but even if he hadn’t, don’t you see that _he_ would be in the wrong? That you giving me up would just be indulging, validating his _wrongness_?”

“I suppose—“

“To be quite honest,” and Stefen almost couldn’t believe himself, that he would run ramshod over Van, but he kept going, “it _hurts_ that you would put me last. It feels like even when it’s not necessary, you’d be willing to throw me by the wayside.” He shrugged helplessly, his anger fading. “I just don’t understand. I’d walk through fire to be able to touch you even once, and it seems like you’d bar your door to me if someone looked at us sideways.” Then, fear left him cold. “You must not feel the same way I do. I read once lifebonds don’t mean love—“

Vanyel’s face was horror-struck and his response was sudden, his voice sure. “I love you, Stefen.”

He stilled.

Standing, meeting him at the window, Vanyel took his hands in his. “I mean it. I’m sorry—so sorry—“

“Would you say it again?”

A smile tugged at the tired corners of Vanyel’s lips. “I love you.” He turned Stefen’s hands in his; palms up, he pressed them to his heart. “Bard Stefen, I pledge my heart to yours.”

 _Nobody ever has._ He didn’t like to show weakness—to say it, to admit how bad it had really been— _because everyone who should have loved me left me shivering and starving._

“Stefen, are you all right?” They were so close now that Vanyel’s breath whispered by his ear, their bodies almost flush.

“I’ve never… no one has ever.” He stopped, embarrassed.

“Oh, _ashke._ ” Vanyel traced his cheek, eyes warm. “I was so wrong to--to offer that. I know, I'm sure, I couldn't have.“

It was hard to breathe with the firm strength of Vanyel’s chest pressed against his, close, not close enough. “I could forgive you.”

That slight smile again, and a raised eyebrow. _Always controlled, always graceful._ Vanyel slipped to his knees in front of him, snatches of echoed lust turning Stefen’s blood hot. “Should I beg on my knees?”

His breath was warm against his breeches, stoking his desire, chasing thought to want. _If he knew how many times I’d dreamt this—more than dreamt—_

And those eyes, mingling regret and love, desire. Dark eyelashes fluttered, almost demurely— _I’m still finding out how much you like to play that role. Oh gods, and I couldn’t resist you already._ “If you would,” he replied huskily.

Still looking up at him, Vanyel hooked his breeches and smallclothes, pulled them down slowly, never breaking contact. He slid forward, his tonguetip tasting— _that sinful mouth, havens—_ and warm wetness buckled Stefen’s knees. _Holy hells. Holy hells. Holy—_

Vanyel took all of him, then, his mouth and tongue working in tandem, hands exploring with gentle finesse— _I accept. I accept. Don’t stop._

He’d closed his eyes; when he opened them, he almost lost himself. Vanyel’s hair had tumbled about his head, his eyes closed, his mouth red and wet around him, two faint dots of color on his cheeks— _I never, ever thought I’d see him like this—I didn’t know it was possible._

Impossible now, too, to believe that Vanyel would ever let him go or push him aside, not with the feelings intensifying across their bond, not with Stefen’s ecstasy rising and Vanyel’s shared joy, not with the heightening warmth of it all—

He shuddered into Vanyel’s mouth, half expecting him to pull off, but he didn’t, didn’t struggle, and Stefen felt another surge of outside want. _He likes it. Oh, Van, I cannot wait to learn all your dirty tricks._

Vanyel wiped his mouth carefully with the back of his shirtsleeve, and looked up, a hint of humor in his eyes. “Apology accepted?”

Still swaying on his feet, Stefen managed somehow to draw him up with both arms. “Yes,” he murmured. “Apology most definitely accepted.”


End file.
